


Shave and a haircut, two bits

by accol



Series: egggv [4]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Haircuts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:22:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trombley considers cutting his hair short... because of a guy.  In the <i>Strip Away Your Hard Veneer<i> verse.</i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> By request of [thommygirl](http://thommygirl.tumblr.com).  Inspired by [this](http://thommygirl.tumblr.com/post/51936406316).   Originally posted [here](http://egggv.tumblr.com/post/51937633512/shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits). This is what a bottle of wine on a Saturday night gets you. Based upon characters in the HBO miniseries _Generation Kill_. No harm or infringement intended.

His hair had just sort of gotten long like this when he wasn’t paying attention.  Trombley shrugged silently at himself in the bathroom mirror as he pushed it off his forehead and tried to remember himself as a soldier.  That felt so fucking long ago.  A curl snuck out of his hold and fell back across his face, so he gave up trying for the time being.  He massaged the knuckles of his hand absently, only subliminally remembering how he’d punched out his CO.

Now that he worked at Matilda’s, it seemed kind of ok to have his hair curly like this.  But… there was also this thing with Sixta.  Fuck if James knew why he was even going there.  John was like a million years older than him.  James had seen that picture in Godfather’s office though, and he couldn’t get the vision of a much younger Sixta leaning up against a classic car with his hair slicked back out of his mind.  

Then there had been cooking supper for the guy, and fucking him because why the hell not.  James had kind of convinced himself that would be it.  Scratch the itch, ditch the bitch.  Only it didn’t seem to be working.

The shower curtain rings scraped across the rod with a metallic hiss behind him.  John stepped out and rubbed a towel across his short hair while James watched him in the mirror.  His dick twitched a little as he remembered what they’d done to need a shower.

“I was thinking,” James blurted out.

“Yeh?  Spit it out then.”

“You think you could, um, shave my head for me?”

Sixta looked at him appraisingly before a smile grew on his lips.  ”That’s gon’ look good.  Sure, I’ll shaves yer hair off for ya.”

Trombley almost dropped the clippers in the sink in his eagerness.  Damn if he knew what the fuck this was about, but he really wanted John to look at him like he done something good.  


	2. New Year's

New Years weren’t Sixta’s favorite holiday.  That tradition of kissin’ someone while the ball dropped left him feeling lonely most years.  He did fine by himself, and the job kept him chest deep in eye candy.  It was fine.

Trombley’d been at Matilda’s for 2 months now.  Mostly he didn’t fuck things up anymore, and he made Sixta cookies once.  

…That was more ‘n fine.  Trombley was more ‘n fine.  

"Damn it," Sixta mumbled.  "Figures it’d be tonight."

Trombley’s stretch of unfuckedupness was over as of right now.  He was oiled up and spilled darn near a truckload of confetti on hisself.  Look like a gay disco giant nutted on him.

"Get yerself down here pronto," Sixta snapped, dragging Trombley off the dance platform by the side of his glitter-coated jock.

"But, it could be festive.  It’s not a total fuck-up!"

"Ain’t no one even gonna see you under all that shit.  How they supposed to appreciate the merchandise when it looks like it covered in coconut?  Like a goddamn snowball."

Sixta shoved Trombley in the shower and started scrubbin’ at him with his hands.  Paper dots and sparkles rained down into the drain.  

A few persistent ones needed extra work to get ‘em off his ass.  At least the kid stuck his rear out while Sixta worked.  Made it less of a chore.

"Might have missed a few," Trombley said, voice cracking.

"I did not miss none," Sixta retorted.  

James turned around under the shower spray.  ”Probably should check.”  And dropped his jock with a slosh.

Sixta swallowed hard.  ”Prob’ly.  Yep.”


End file.
